War On The Homefront
by Kayy716
Summary: Two months after the accident that nearly cost Kit her life, she and the gang are forced to face new trials and triumphs as the gang moves into adulthood. With the war waging overseas and troubles in their own neighborhood, will they be able to stick together when sh- hits the fan? Or will they be forced to make decisions that will divide them forever? Sequel to "To Hell and Back"
1. Chapter 1

Full Summary: Two months after the accident that nearly cost Kit her life, she and the gang are forced to face new trials and triumphs as the gang moves into adulthood. With the war waging overseas and troubles in their own neighborhood, will they be able to stick together when shit hits the fan? Or will they be forced to make decisions that will divide them forever? Sequel to "To Hell and Back"; While you could read this one without reading the other, it makes more sense if you read part 1 first!

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A/n: This one is going to be in 3rd person, since I really wanted to be able to explore each character in their own respect. That being said, if things get confusing, let me know!

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"You can kill ten of my men for every one I kill of yours. But even at those odds, you will lose and I will win." —Viet Minh leader Ho Chi Minh in a warning to French colonialists in 1946.

* * *

They say time heals all wounds, but what they don't tell you, is that the healing process is long and trying. Months may pass and the wounds may fade into scars, but the pain lasts far longer than the wounds do.

Every night, certain members of their group were plagued with nightmares. Some could remember their nightmares. Others couldn't. Kit, however, could remember hers in perfect detail. Not because she wanted to, but because she dreams of the nightmares you already lived through.

Like every night, it was late when Kit jerked awake, her heart racing, sweat pouring down her face as she struggled to sit up. Her leg was still mostly useless, despite the stitches being removed and the wound as healed as it would ever be. The lack of muscle in that leg made it impossible to bare weight, but Kit was stubborn and refused to use the cane the hospital gave her. Instead, she'd drag the leg painfully behind her, trying to force it to bare weight with every step she took.

"Urgh," she moaned as she rolled over on the couch, carefully flipping the lamp on. The bright light threw shadows around the room, causing Steve, who was asleep on the floor next to the couch to stir.

"Nightmare again?" he asked, rolling over so he was looking up at her.

"No," she lied through grit teeth. Steve gave her a doubtful look before sighing. He knew she suffered almost as bad as Ponyboy did with the endless nightmares. The difference was, she could remember hers.

"You don't have'ta lie to me," he said gently.

"It's my leg," she lied. She sat up slowly, her injured leg stretched out in front of her. She traced her fingers over the deep, angry scars. While the wound itself had healed, the scar was still very visible. As was the pain, both physical and mental, that it caused her.

"Pills?" Steve asked, his face twisting with concern. He was on his feet before Kit could shake her head.

"No, I just need to get up and stretch," she said stubbornly. Slowly, she lowered her bad leg to the floor before standing, her good leg bearing most of the weight. She half hopped, half limped towards the kitchen, her body trembling with every step. In the pale dawn light, Steve could see just how much weight Kit had lost in the last six months. Her normally thick, muscular build was now fragile and pale. Her collarbone stuck out and the bones in her shoulders were visible.

"Have you been eating?" Steve asked, walking only a step behind her, ready to catch her if she needed it. She was stubborn and after ten painfully long minutes, she reached the kitchen counter and started rummaging around for the can of coffee, even though it was only four in the morning.

"Yeah, sure," she shrugged. She slowly hopped to the sink and filled the coffee pot, her hand trembling.

"Golly, Kit, sit down, I can do that," Steve said softly. "You're gonna fall."

"I'm fine, Steve," she said louder than she intended to. She finished setting up the coffee maker before turning to glare at him, but the anger didn't reach his eyes.

Kit looked ready to say something else, but Brooklyn ushered the pups into the kitchen before she could.

"You're up early," she said, opening the back door to let the pups outside. "It's not even five yet."

"You are too," Kit remarked.

"I work at six," she motioned. "I needed a shower before Darry got up. Why are you up?"

"Her leg was hurting her," Steve said quickly, coming to Kit's aid. He knew Brooklyn could read Kit better than almost anyone and knew she wouldn't stop pestering Kit until she opened up about the nightmares. Brooklyn had a weird obsession with dreams.

"How bad?" Brooklyn asked, giving Kit a troubled look. "Should you even be standing? I thought the doctor wanted you to use the cane? Kit, you're trembling, sit down!"

"Brooklyn Winston, I swear on all that is holy, if you don't stop trying to mother me, I am going to show you just how fucking fine I am!" Kit growled. Anger bubbled in her chest as she stared at the younger girl. "I'm fine. My leg is fine. My head is fine. I. Am. Fine!"

She spun too quickly, trying to side step Steve. In the process, her bad leg buckled, resulting in her sprawling out on the kitchen floor, a slew of swears exploding from her lips.

Steve and Brooklyn both hurried to her side to help her up, but she slapped their hands away, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

"Please, just leave me alone," she growled. Brooklyn sighed and walked outside, letting the door slam behind her. Steve looked at Kit with troubled eyes before sulking off to wake up Soda. If anyone could get through to Kit, it would be his best friend. He didn't have to look far, the commotion in the kitchen had woken the three brothers up.

"Is she okay?" Ponyboy asked tiredly from where he stood in the doorway of the room he shared with Soda.

"Yeah," Steve lied. "But she needs Soda."

"Mmm," Pony turned and went back to bed. He was tired.

Darry gave Steve a troubled look while Soda hurried down the hall and into the kitchen.

"What happened?" Darry asked softly. He looked worn out but his eyes were bright. He would have been waking up in a few minutes anyway so he wasn't too upset about being woken up early, especially when the smell of coffee reached his nose.

"She had a nightmare but won't admit it. Then she got stubborn and decided dragging that leg of hers around was the brightest plan," Steve sighed. "I'm worried about her Darry. Did you see how weak she looks these days?"

"She's not eating much," Darry nodded with a shake of his head. "I think she's still trying to wrap her head around everything. We all are."

"But something's wrong, Darry. Can't you see that? It's like she doesn't care anymore. It's like she's trying to just waste away," Steve urged, his voice raising.

"Next time y'all want to talk about me, maybe make sure I'm outta earshot," Kit's angry voice came as she and Soda approached the pair. "I'm not broken. I'm fine," she added with a distasteful glare at Steve. "Stop hovering."

She pushed herself away from Soda and limped into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her with so much force, the frame rattled. When the guys heard the water to the shower turn on, they all looked reluctantly at one another before hurrying off to do what they had to do. Soda went back to bed, Darry changed quickly and went into the kitchen to enjoy a cup of coffee and Steve sulked into the living room, sitting down heavily on the couch.

He rested his head in his hands, his entire body feeling heavy. He felt like he hadn't slept in a week, even though he was probably sleeping sounder than anyone else was.

A loud thud from the bathroom caused him to jump to his feet, losing his train of thought. Darry and Soda met him at the bathroom door, as did Brooklyn who had been changing in the bedroom she now had claim over, all sharing the same concerned expression.

"Kit? Kit, you okay in there?" Brooklyn asked, knocking softly. They could still hear the water from the shower running, but no response from Kit.

"Kit? Are you okay?" Brooklyn tried again. "Answer me or I'm coming in!" A moment passed and still no answer. Brooklyn nodded at Darry who threw himself against the locked door. After two attempts, the wood gave and Brooklyn rushed into the bathroom. The boys shared worried looks but decided against following her in unless she called for them.

"Kit?" Brooklyn pulled back the shower curtain and found Kit sitting on the bottom of the tub, her thin, naked body trembling, tears rolling down her cheeks, masked by the water, now cold, hammering down on top of her.

"I fell," she said bleakly. "My leg gave out and I fell."

"Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" Brooklyn asked. She glanced over her shoulder and motioned for a towel. "Did you hit your head?"

Kit shook her head miserably.

"I'm fine, but I can't feel anything below my knee," she said, her voice trembling. "I tried to stand up, but it's all numb."

"Okay, I'm gonna cover you up and we're gonna let Darry help you stand, okay?" Brooklyn said gently.

"No," Kit shook her head stubbornly. "Just get my cane."

Kit hadn't ever asked for the cane. Brooklyn threw a helpless glance over her shoulder, grateful that Soda had overhead Kit's demand. He returned a moment later with the cane in one hand, an oversized flannel in the other.

Brooklyn helped Kit towel off enough to slip the shirt on, before slowly, guiding her out of the tub, struggling to hold the slightly taller woman up.

"Are you sure?" she asked as she slid the cane into Kit's hand. Kit nodded and took a shaky step forward. She could barely lift her injured leg an inch. She groaned and leaned heavily against the cane, forcing one foot in the front of the other. She only made it two or three steps before she half-collapsed, right into Steve's waiting arms.

"I'm done," she whispered, clinging to him, tears rolling down her cheeks. Steve nodded and carefully picked her up, noting that she was a lot lighter than he remembered. He carefully carried her to the couch, setting her down slowly, before wrapping a thick blanket around her. She seemed to sink into the fabric, her tired eyes closing almost immediately. Something as simple as taking a shower had drained her of all energy.

"I'm gonna call the doctor," Darry said softly, his eyes locking on the girl he grew up with. "I've never seen her this bad before."

"Maybe she's just sore?" Brooklyn tried. "She's stubborn, but she's not stupid. Maybe she just pushed herself too hard."

"I'm not so sure," Soda said softly. He had a glass of water in one hand, Kit's bottle of pills in the other. "She's losing too much weight," he added, a troubled look on his face. "She's always had a solid build. I don't remember ever seeing her look this rough."

* * *

When the doctor came by later that afternoon, Kit wasn't in any mood to be poked and prodded. She kept shifting her weight whenever the doctor touched her bad leg and grimaced when he went on and on about her needing to take better care of herself. Being twenty, she didn't need to have anyone sign off for her, but the doctor assured her that if she didn't take better care of herself, he'd be forced to suggest that she be hospitalized.

"You've lost a lot of weight since the last time I saw you, Jo-Anna. How are you feeling? Aside from the leg? Depressed? Anxious?"

"I'm fine," she said stubbornly. "I've only lost weight because I can't move around much."

"Well your leg is healing remarkably well considering the amount of damage done to it. I'd like to see more muscle growth, but I understand right now it's painful. From what I can tell, the pain you're experiencing is more nerve pain than actual muscle pain, which we expected and warned you about. I'd recommend some slow movements for now and for God's sake, use the cane. Slowly inch your way back to walking on it. I'd also like to see you put on ten to fifteen pounds by this time next month. I'd reckon you're under 90 at this point and for a woman your age, that's concerning. I'm going to prescribe you something a little stronger for the pain and something to help you sleep. I want you to get as much rest as you can and work on that leg, okay? And if you spike a fever, you call me immediately. While we managed to clear that infection of yours up, your immune system is still fragile. Especially with malnutrition playing a role. If you ever want to walk unaided again, you're going to need to take care of yourself."

"Fine," she said sourly. Steve and Two-Bit were leaning in the doorway, eavesdropping on the conversation. Soda, Brooklyn, and Darry were at work and Ponyboy was at track practice.

"And you listen to your body, understood? If you're feeling dizzy or weak or like your leg is going to give out, you get someone to help you. Especially in the shower. You're lucky your fall earlier didn't end differently. You could have been seriously injured," the doctor droned.

"I'm fine," Kit assured him. "Anything else, Doc?"

"Just start eating something, okay? Seriously, Jo-Anna-," she cut the doctor off.

"Kit. It's Kit," she said, her tone low, dangerous.

"Okay, _Kit_, listen here, you start eating and slowly working with that leg and I can assure you that you'll be up and causing trouble in no time. But only if you listen to what I'm telling you," he said sternly. She nodded and finally, the doctor seemed satisfied enough to leave. He passed Steve and Two-Bit on his way out and motioned for them to follow him.

"She's severely malnourished," he said, his tone showing concern. "If she doesn't put on some weight, she's going to die before her leg ever has a chance to heal. If she keeps pushing herself like she is, she's going to cause more harm than good, understood?"

"What can we do?" Steve asked, running a hand through his complicated curls.

"Make sure she eats and takes her medication. Make her use the damn cane and for goodness sake, make her let someone help her," he said, sighing. He knew Kit was stubborn. He had been her doctor long enough to know that she was pigheaded and wouldn't listen. "If she loses anymore weight, I won't have any option but to admit her and force a feeding tube down her throat. I'd much rather see her recover where she's got a strong support system, but at this point, she's only making things worse on herself."

"We'll do what we can," Two-Bit assured the doctor.

"And keep an eye on her, okay?" The doctor said, going against his better judgement. "I'm worried about her mental state as much as I am her physical one. If she shows any signs of hurting herself, you call me, okay?"

Both boys nodded their heads, looks of concern written all over their faces. The Kit they knew was strong and resilient and bounced back from anything. They all knew something was seriously wrong with her, but they had no idea how serious it could actually be.

"You boys are her lifeline. Don't forget that," the doctor said kindly before heading towards his car. "Maybe fix that fence too," he added, nudging Knick-Knack from under his car. "Don't want the pups getting hit by a car." Knick-Knack ran over to Steve, his golden tail wagging a mile a minute.

Steve and Two-Bit exchanged worried looks before ushering the puppies back into the house and silently thinking about what the doctor had told them. They all knew that Kit's physical recovery would take a long time, but none of them had stopped to think about how badly everything was effecting her mental state.

She lost her brother, two of her friends and use of her leg in such a short span of time. She was suffering and Steve made a silent promise to himself to do whatever he could to help her. Kit was the mother of their group, taking in all the strays and making everyone feel safe. Shoot, she even made Darry feel safe, a feeling he wasn't used to after losing his parents. Kit was their rock and they all knew that. Now it was just a matter of getting her to realize that too.

"She's gonna be okay, Stevie, you'll see," Two-Bit said with a chessy cat grin. "It's Kitten we're talkin' about here. Nothin' keeps Kitten down for long."

"I sure hope you're right," Steve said, scrubbing his hand over his face. "I'm scared." Steve never admitted fear.

"So am I, buddy, so am I," Two-Bit said in a softer tone. It took a lot to scare the gang, but seeing their matriarch suffering was enough to scare even the hardest of the group. Now they just had to help her piece the broken pieces back together, once and for all.

"C'mon, let's go find something for her to eat," Two-Bit said eagerly, breaking through Steve's bleak thoughts. Steve nodded and together, the pair managed to pull together a soup of sorts for Kit to eat. Steve made a mental note to go pick up more food later, after everyone else got home.

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**A/N: I hope everyone has enjoyed this first chapter! Be sure to review! We are officially past the original storyline, so this story will be far longer! I'm hoping to make this my longest FF yet, so we'll see! Reviews keep me motivated and if anyone has any suggestions, please don't hesitate to let me know! I can fit different themes into this story at any point, so anything is fair game! **


	2. Chapter 2

"_In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: It goes on." – Robert Frost_

* * *

It was late one night when Steve wrapped a thick blanket around Kit's thin frame, his eyes tracing over the sunken frame of his once fiercely strong friend, his eyes lingering on her pale, angelic face. Over the last two weeks, he had all but quit school to be there for Kit every day, helping her slowly regain strength and making sure she was eating as much as he dared to force her to stomach. At first, she was furious at him, but over time, she seemed to trust him more and more and lean into him for stability and strength. It was late, but watching her sleep, he could lose track of time for hours.

"How was she today?" Brooklyn asked as she collected the loose dishes from dinner from their various spots across the house. "Did she eat?"

"Yeah, she seems to be getting better," Steve said gently. He made sure the blanket was secure before joining who was still awake in the kitchen. Darry was going over the bills, Ponyboy was finishing his homework and Soda was whisking up a cake for the next day. Two-Bit was either out getting blitz or at his own house for a change and Brooklyn was taking it upon herself to tidy up. Both Greaser and Knick-Knack, who had been lovingly nicknamed Kiack, were both lying by the stove, their tails thumping softly against the tile floor.

"You really love her, don't you?" Soda chided, giving his best friend a soft smile. "Never saw you this soft, Stevie," he added.

"She needs someone," he said softly, blushing slightly. "She won't let no one else help her."

"You know, she loves you, right?" Brooklyn offered gently. "Kit talks about you in her sleep all the time. I think she really digs you."

"Yeah?" Steve scratched the back of his neck, not liking being put on the spot like that.

"Mom used to joke that she'd marry Darry one day, 'cause they were so close in age," Ponyboy laughed. "I think mom just wanted a daughter."

"She's really fond of you, Steve. You're a lucky guy to have her heart," Darry said with a thin smile. He was happy for his friends. Kit was such a loving woman and she'd make a great wife one day. While Darry would never admit it, he always had a thing for the fiery girl with fierce eyes. Despite that, he also knew Kit always had a soft spot for Dallas and Steve. Dally because she could keep up with his attitude and knew how to avoid his bad side and Steve because the angry, bitter boy always seemed to find a way to get into her head. Darry knew Steve was the perfect match for her. He was softer and calmer now that he had her to lean into. He wondered if the two would ever make anything of the bond they now shared.

Steve glanced back into the living room, his eyes once more tracing over his friend. Her dark hair was frizzy and knotted, a huge difference from how she used to keep it. He knew her icy eyes were dull from exhaustion. He smiled in spite of himself, remembering how her eyes would light up when she talked about things she loved. When Greaser curled up in her lap, Kit stirred slightly, reaching for something that wasn't there. In her sleep, her face seemed to change into one of panic. Steve hurried to her side and slid his hand into hers, rubbing gentle circles into the back of her hand. Immediately she relaxed, a soft smile playing on her lips.

"I love you," she murmured in her sleep. Steve sucked in a shaky breath, unsure if those words were intended for him or not. "I love you." She squeezed his hand. "Never leave. Everyone leaves."

"I'm not goin' no where," Steve said gently, nudging the pup so he could sit next to Kit, his hand never leaving hers. "I swear."

* * *

Kit had always been stubborn, almost as stubborn as Dally was. She wasn't good at slowing down or listening to reason. But seeing her once strong body quickly fail her made even the toughest of the gang feel helpless.

It had been roughly three weeks since the doctor checked her out and there hadn't been any great improvements. It seemed like every time they thought they were getting somewhere; she took two steps back. She barely slept. She spent her time mending the boys' clothes or helping Ponyboy with his homework or scribbling in her notebook. Steve was the only person who could get her to eat a few bites of food at every meal, normally after arguing with her for a whole hour beforehand.

"C'mon, the doctor said you need to try to bare some weight," Soda said gently early one Saturday morning. "He said it'd be easier if you just started trusting yourself." Steve was at work and Darry was off working his second job. Ponyboy was still asleep. "Just a little while." Soda knew Brooklyn wouldn't be home for a couple more hours. She was working her ass off to help with the bills and pay her dues. She wasn't a freeloader and she constantly made that fact known. She even managed to save up for a cheap car that Steve helped her fix up.

"It hurts," she whispered. She looked so pale, it scared Soda. He had never seen anyone fight so hard and still get nowhere. While she was doing the stretches the doctor had recommended and tried to eat as much as she could stomach, even if it was only a few small bites, she still wasn't as strong as everyone had hoped she'd be after so many weeks of recovery.

"Just try, c'mon," he urged. His dark eyes danced with that happy-go-lucky look that could make anyone smile. "I won't let ya fall, promise."

Kit sighed but slowly, very slowly, pushed herself off the couch. That was when Soda got a good look at just how much weight she had lost. Her once tight fitting tank top hung loosely around her thin frame. Her good leg trembled as she gingerly allowed her bad leg to bare the slightest bit of weight. It seemed like a lifetime before she finally took a shaky step forward. Then another. And another. Soda stayed close to her side, ready to catch her if she fell. He watched as her face twisted in pain, but said nothing as she slowly made her way into the kitchen, her entire body trembling by the time she reached the table. She placed her hand on it, holding herself up, her eyes glassy with tears, her breath coming out in panicked gasps.

"You did it!" Soda cheered, hugging her carefully. "Kitten, you did it!"

"I did, didn't I?" she said sheepishly. "T'wasn't too bad," she said, but her voice betrayed her. Soda helped her sit down before rushing to the cupboard for her bottle of pills. He shook one out and grabbed a cup of water, bringing both to her quickly. She stared at the pill in her hand before she shook her head, a slight smile forming on her lips.

"I don't need it," she said softly. Soda gave her a quizzical look but before he could say anything, Greaser, the bigger of the two pups, padded into the kitchen and leaned against Kit's good leg, his tail wagging as he licked her fingers. "Hey boy," Kit said with a smile playing on her lips. "What're you and that brother of yours up to?" Greaser let out a soft bark and before Kit had a chance to react, Kiack running into the kitchen, quickly jumping up on her, his smaller frame completely smothering her. She giggled as she shoved the pup to the floor, patting his head happily.

"You know, Greaser could probably help get you walkin' in no time," Soda said with a sly grin. "He's smart you know."

"He's getting big," she noted, rubbing his ear. She was about to say something else when a jolt of pain caused her to gasp.

"What's wrong?" Soda quickly knelt down in front of her, searching her eyes for any sign of what he could do to help.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she hissed, her eyes glossing over for a moment, before her breathing steadied. "It's okay." Kit massaged the pain out of her thigh, her fingers carefully tracing over the deep, ugly scar that could be felt under the thin pajama pants she wore. After a few minutes of rubbing, the deep muscle pain subsided.

"I want to try again," she said, looking up at Soda with doe-eyes. "Please?"

"Yeah, okay!" Soda said, trying his best to contain his excitement. This was the most Kit walked in ages.

"I want to get outside," she said, her eyes dancing at the thought. "Just for a little while. I wanna see the pups run around."

"Okay," Soda nodded. He was helping her to her feet when Ponyboy wandered into the kitchen, Knick-Knack now at his side.

"You're walking?" Pony said excitedly. "How'd you do it? Steve's been trying for the last week!"

"All he had to do was flash that smile of 'is," Kit said with a soft laugh. "Can't no one say no to Sodapop Curtis!"

That got a good laugh out of the two younger Curtis boys.

Ponyboy hurried to let the dogs out so they wouldn't trip Kit, as she slowly, very slowly, made her way onto the back steps, carefully lowering herself, one step at a time. It was chilly out, but the icy air seemed to ease the tension that was growing between her eyes. Each step was insanely painful, but she was determined to heal. She was tired of being a burden and Soda was right; if she never got up and started trusting herself again, she'd never recover. The deeply embedded muscle damage in her leg may never fully heal, but she could regain use if she stayed consistent.

She managed to reach the bottom step with only minimal help from Soda, before the pain was just too much. Soda, who had been watching her like a hawk, gently helped her sit down, a huge smile on his face.

"You did it!" Soda said followed by an excited whoop. "You did it Kitten!"

"I'm so proud of you, Kit!" Pony chimed in. He was holding a glass of chocolate milk in one hand, Kit's cane in the other. "But aren't you supposed to be using this?"

"Shhh," Kit said with a slight smile. "That thing isn't worth the trouble. Besides, I'm getting there. I'm gonna walk again, you'll see!"

"Hell yeah you are," Soda cheered. "You did good, real good."

* * *

They say in the backyard for a while, letting Kit soak up the cool air and watched as she tossed the ball around for the puppies to chase. She seemed genuinely happy for the first time since everything happened.

"Greaser's more like Darry," Ponyboy was explaining when Soda came back outside after excusing himself to use the bathroom and grab everyone sandwiches. "He's more calm and observant. Kiack is like Soda, wild and full of life and love. It's funny really."

While it was unseasonably warm that afternoon, it was still too cold to stay out much longer. Along with the food, Soda had grabbed the thick afghan off the sofa for Kit. She wrapped it around her quickly but made no more to touch the sandwich Soda offered her. It didn't help that the cheese was dyed bright blue.

"C'mon Soda, she barely eats as it is, couldn't you have at least given her something that looked normal?" Pony chided.

"Normal is boring," Kit and Soda said at the exact same time, earning them a playful swat from the younger boy. "Besides, I'm feelin' sort of worn out," Kit admitted, pulling the blanket tighter. "I want to lay down for a while."

"Want me to carry you?" Soda offered softly, setting the plates to one side, offering Kit his hand.

"No, I want to try to walk," she said stubbornly. She allowed Soda to help her stand, carefully pulling the blanket up so she couldn't trip. She carefully lifted her bad leg, holding onto the railing for dear life. Soda was ready to place his hand on her back, but she quickly shrugged him off, her face set, her eyes ablaze. She forced her leg to bare weight as she slowly pulled her good leg up next to it. Her face paled at the amount of work it took just to go up one step.

Ponyboy ushered the dogs inside, carefully making sure not to knock Kit over, but knowing that it would take her a while to get up the steps and the less people watching her, the less stubborn she would be. He quickly made her a normal look sandwich and sat in on the coffee table, knowing she probably wouldn't eat it, but also knowing Steve would kill him if he didn't try to get her to eat. He caught sight of the clock and was surprised to see it was already 3 in the afternoon.

Meanwhile, Kit forced herself to take another painful step. Her entire body was trembling. Soda wanted to beg her to let him help, but he knew she wouldn't. His normally dancing eyes were filled with concern. Another step. Then another. This time, Kit's bad leg buckled and if Soda hadn't been there to break her fall, she would have smashed her face on the step.

"Okay, Jo-Anna, you know I'm proud of you for trying today, you kicked ass, you did so good, but you're gonna hurt yourself if you don't let me help," Soda pleaded. "You're shakin' like a drowned rat."

"I'm fine," she huffed. She wasn't at all happy with him using her given name, but when Soda wrapped his arm around her waist, she felt her muscles seize and reluctantly let him carry her the rest of the way. He set her gently on the couch and pulled the blanket around her as she sank into the well-worn fabric.

"Thanks," she said tiredly, her eyes fluttering shut as soon as her head hit the pillow. Ponyboy was standing in the doorway, watching with concerned eyes.

"Think maybe she over did it?" He asked softly.

"She needed to see for herself that she could," Soda said hesitantly. He wasn't entirely sure how much he believed that, but he had to. He would never forgive himself if his pressuring her set back her recovery.

"I'm okay guys," Kit said tiredly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I promise. Savvy?"

The boys nodded, though she couldn't see. Soon enough, her soft snores filled their ears and the pair tiptoed out of the living room to let the girl they had known most of their life get some rest.

* * *

**A/N: I know it's been forever since I updated last, but life got in the way! I hope to keep this story going for as long as possible and I am always open to suggestions! Reviews keep me going, so let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

"_We gotta get out of this place__  
__If it's the last thing we ever do__  
__We gotta get out of this place__  
__'cause girl, there's a better life for me and you"_ _\- __The Animals - We Gotta Get Out Of This Place_

* * *

Kit woke a few hours later to hushed voices coming from the kitchen. She slowly sat up on the couch and tried to listen, but their voices were soft and muffled.

"What do you mean, Steve didn't come back yet?" Darry's voice came a bit louder than he intended. He didn't want to wake Kit. Soda had told him about her walking and he was worried she needed the extra rest.

"He was supposed to get out at 4," Soda said, trying to hide his worry. "He told me he was coming right here when he got out."

"Maybe he just made a pit stop somewhere?" Two-Bit suggested.

"He didn't stop at home," a new voice chimed as the backdoor slammed shut. "I checked there and the market on my way back; I stopped at the DX for gas and they said he left at 4."

"Where could he have gone then?" Darry mused.

"Think we should split up and look for him?" Soda asked.

Kit got tired of eavesdropping and slowly forced herself to her feet, grateful that Ponyboy had left the cane next to the couch. She carefully took shaky steps forward, making it to the kitchen faster than she did that morning.

"It's only 7, let's not panic just yet," she said as she slowly made her way over to the wall so she could lean against it. Everyone stared at her with wide eyes.

"You're walking!" Brooklyn cheered. "Look at you!"

"Not a big deal," she shrugged. "If Steve doesn't turn up by 8, we'll start lookin' for him." She continued. She grabbed the notepad off the counter and slowly made her way back into the living room, sitting down with the phone cradled in her lap. She looked at the numbers scribbled on the pad and decided to check the Shepherd's house first. Not that Steve was known to run with their lot, but it was worth having Tim keeping an eye out.

"Curly, I swear if you got yourself hauled in again," a female voice answered on the third ring.

"Ang, it's Kit, Tim there?" Kit cut her off.

"Oh, hi Kit, no, I think he went out to find Curly. Why? What's wrong?" her tone was still harsh, but that was just how Angela Shepherd was.

"Nothin'. Just wanted to know if he saw someone," Kit said. "If he turns up, tell 'im to call Darry."

"Will do," Ang hung up without another word. Angela Shepherd was trouble. She definitely wasn't someone Kit liked dealing with, but she was Tim's kid sister and that meant something.

"Any luck?" Soda asked as he came to sit beside Kit on the floor.

"Tim wasn't home," she sighed. "I'm trying Buck now," she added.

"Steve wouldn't be there," Soda said matter-of-factly.

"Worth a try," Kit shrugged. She dialed the number to the roadhouse and wasn't the least bit surprised when no one answered. Buck rarely ever answered the phone. With a defeated sigh, she slammed the phone down on the receiver and pushed it back onto the end table. She gave Soda a look and he carefully helped her back to her feet.

"It's Steve, guys, he's gonna be just fine. Not the first time he's ran off to blow off steam. Prolly down at the drag race or the tracks or somethin'," Two-Bit said with a crooked grin. "Maybe he needed a break from playing house wife."

"Stuff it," Kit growled. She felt a pang of guilt. Maybe Two-Bit wasn't wrong.

"Steve wouldn't go without Soda," Ponyboy said, coming into the living room with a glass of water in his hands. He passed the water to Kit who drank it quickly. "Soda always goes with him."

"Maybe he wanted to be alone?" Brooklyn suggested. "I mean; it's been some rough couple months for everyone. Maybe he just needed some time to process."

"Maybe," Soda nodded, though he didn't look convinced.

Kit lowered herself on the couch, grateful that for the moment, her leg wasn't aching as badly as she thought it would. She sighed softly and tried to wrack her brain to think of where Steve might be. She felt like a mother duck with one of her ducklings missing. She leaned back, letting her head rest against the back of the couch, her mind racing a mile a minute.

The murmur of voices soon lulled Kit back into a restless sleep. She wasn't even aware that she had drifted off until a warm, furry body nudged her awake, shaking her from the nightmare that she was silently fighting.

"No!" she screamed as she shoved the furry mess off her lap, her heart racing.

"Kit, golly, calm down," an urgent, hushed voice soothed, gripping her hands, keeping her from lashing out. "You're okay!"

"No!" she screamed again, thrashing, lashing out at the person holding her down.

"Kit, shhh, you're okay, you're safe," the voice begged.

"Steve!" she cried out, her eyes snapping open, her body tensing. Soda was staring at her with dark, worried eyes.

"Shh, it's okay, you fell asleep, it's okay, Kit, you're okay."

"Something's wrong," she said urgently. She wasn't sure what she meant, but she felt it deep in her heart that something wasn't wrong. She shoved Soda's hands away and stood up, momentarily forgetting about her injured leg. Her legs buckled and she wound up falling flat on her face. She groaned with frustration and pushed herself to her knees, panting, her heart still racing.

"What the hell happened?" Darry's voice boomed as he hurried into the living room, Ponyboy and Two-Bit at his heals. Brooklyn came rushing from the back of the house, a look of fear on her face.

"Is she okay?" She demanded.

"She had a nightmare," Soda explained, helping Kit back onto the couch. "Kit, what happened?"

"Something's wrong," she repeated. Her hand flew to the ring she still wore around her neck. Dally's ring. "Something's wrong. I don't know what. But I just know."

"You sound crazy," Two-Bit muttered. He took a swig of the beer in his hand before giving Darry a troubled look.

"Kit, calm down, talk to us, what's wrong? What are you talking about?" Soda coaxed.

"You know that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you just know something bad's about to happen?" She tried. Her voice was trembling. "Like you can't put your finger on it, but you just know?"

"Yeah, like that feeling of dread that you just can't place," Ponyboy nodded, coming closer so he could sit on the edge of the coffee table across from her, his hand gently resting on her knee. "What was your dream about?"

"I don't remember," she said truthfully. "I just remember feeling an overwhelming sense of dread," she admitted. Her fingers were still tracing the ring. "I can't put my finger on it…but I just know. It's like when I was little and my mom was dying…the night she died I just had that sinkin' feelin' that something bad was gonna happen."

"You cried out for Steve," Soda mused. He looked at her with concerned eyes. "Maybe you're just worried about 'im. But it's Steve, he'll turn up, he always does."

"You aren't listening to me!" Kit cried out, frustration bubbling in her chest. "Something's wrong!"

Little did she know how right she was.

* * *

It happened so fast. One second Steve was taking a drive down a relatively vacant road, trying to clear his mind, stopping at a stoplight, unaware of his surroundings, the next, his car door was being ripped open and he was being pulled out of the car by a strong set of hands.

A blow to the head left him fuzzy as he tried to get a view of his attacker. Whoever it was, was really good at making sure Steve couldn't see his face.

"I told 'er she was just gonna get you all killed," a deep, angry voice growled. "No one can love 'er without ending up dead. She ruins the lives of everyone around 'er."

Steve struggled to roll over, but the weight of the man's boot on his back kept him down.

"She should'a just stayed away," the voice growled. Steve cried out as something hard and cold hit him across his back. The pain was unbearable. The man let him up, only long enough to roll him so he could send another blow to his face. A kick to his ribs. Another blow with the hard, cold object. Steve was barely conscious when he felt his attacker hoist him up and push him towards the car. Steve caught himself with bloody hands before the man wheeled him around and shoved him towards the ditch on the side of the road. Steve collapsed into a heap of blood and bruises.

The man spits on him before letting out a low chuckle.

"Funny, really, how she'll never be able to live with this 'un. First them kids, now you? She'll learn this time. Maybe she'll finally learn that she don't belong here. That she just hurts everyone who tries to help her sorry ass. Sorry kid. It had to be this way."

Steve was vaguely aware of footsteps fading before he took a shaking breath, the world finally going black around him.

"No," he whispered as he felt like a fire was engulfing him. "No."


	4. Chapter 4

"I guess Heaven was needing a hero, Somebody just like you  
Brave enough to stand up for what you believe and follow it through"

– "Heaven was needing a hero" by Jo Dee Messina

* * *

It was midnight and the house had fallen into an uncomfortable silence. Darry, Two-Bit, and Brooklyn had split up to look for Steve, but by 11, they had all made their ways back to the house, coming up empty-handed. Kit looked almost as devastated as Soda did when they told them they couldn't find anything.

"I have the Shepherd Gang looking for him," Brooklyn said gently as she put a hand on Soda's shoulder. "And people from the diner are keeping their eyes out. He'll turn up, you'll see."

Kit looked at her skeptically. Her stomach clenched and for a moment, she thought she was going to throw up. Something felt wrong. She had no idea how to express that to the gang.

"Everyone should get some sleep," Darry said gently, his tone far calmer than it normally was. "If Steve doesn't show up tomorrow we'll head out to look for him again."

"What if it's too late by then?" Kit asked. Her voice hitched and she couldn't hold back the tears that welled in her eyes. "What if something happens, Dar?"

"We're talking about Steve Randle here, guys," Two-Bit said with a cocked eyebrow. "If it were me, would you be this worried?"

"No," Ponyboy snorted. "You always find your way home."

Kit grimaced and forced herself to her feet. She swayed, causing Soda to nudge her gently to keep her upright.

"Kit, where ya goin'?" he asked as he helped to steady her.

"Outside," she said stubbornly. She found it ironic when Greaser came to her side, leaning gently against her bad leg. "You wanna come too?" she cooed to the young dog.

She limped to the front door and carefully sat down on the top step, a weed hanging from her lips before she even lowered herself down. She lit the weed and let the nicotine ease the tension that was tying her stomach in knots. After Greaser did his business, he came to lie down beside her, his furry head resting gently against her bad leg, his dark amber eyes showing nothing but loyalty.

"What if we can't find him?" she asked the young pup. "What if he's hurt somewhere and needs us?"

The dog whined and looked up at her, his deep eyes locking on hers.

"We'll find him," a voice came from behind her. Kit turned to see Darry standing behind her. "I swear."

"Dar, something's wrong," Kit said carefully, "I can feel it."

"It's Steve, Jo, you know how he is," Darry said gently. He sat beside her, rubbing his hand over Greaser's back. "He's probably off blowing off steam." Kit grimaced at the fact he wasn't using her nickname, a surefire sign that he was worried about her.

"The last time someone blew off steam they died in my arms," Kit said softly. She felt sick. Her stomach clenched and once again, she felt like she was going to puke. "Darry, I feel it. Something is wrong. Really wrong."

* * *

Steve tried to pull himself upright, but every movement left him gasping for air. The cool, pre-winter air made him feel a million times colder than he should have. He groaned and let his body shudder as he tried to force himself to his knees. Every movement sent a wave of pain throughout his entire body.

He knew in his heart he was going to die. He could feel it. He wanted to see Kit one more time. He wanted to tell her how he felt. He wanted her to know he loved her. He was afraid he'd never get the chance to tell her or anyone else how much they mean to him.

"Help," he begged. He couldn't breathe. He let his body collapsed against the cold, damp ground, his body weaker than he ever imagined it could be. He groaned heavily, his body feeling like it weighed a million pounds as the darkness engulfed him.

* * *

Kit suddenly felt a wave of pain ripple through her leg, causing her stomach to clench. She doubled over, her face going a sickly shade of white.

"Jo? Jo, what's wrong?" Darry asked urgently. He caught her before she could fall forward.

"I'm gonna be-," she was cut off by bile rising in her throat. She coughed and threw up nothing but bile, her body trembling. She continued to empty the contents of her stomach until there was nothing left. Dry heaves left her doubled over, her entire body shaking.

"Darry, what happened?" Brooklyn asked urgently, rushing to Kit's aid. She had been on her way outside of a cigarette of her own when she saw the commotion. She grabbed the sick girl by her shoulders, holding her close as she gasped for air, her stomach in painful knots. Kit groaned and doubled over again, her muscles tight, her lungs on fire.

"I don't know," Darry admitted warily. "She was talking then all of a sudden she got sick."

"Kit, talk to me, what's wrong!?" Brooklyn begged, hugging Kit close. Kit was trembling, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"Something's wrong with Steve," she whispered. "I-," her stomach clenched again. She saw white, her body suddenly ice cold. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her mind. "I just know. Brooke…if Steve dies…" her hand flew to the ring hanging around her neck. "I…I can't lose anyone else…I…" she groaned and pulled her good leg to her chest, resting her head on her knee. "I can't."

"Jo-Anna, Steve is a strong, stubborn guy," Brooklyn said gently. "He's probably off blowing off some steam. He's going to be okay, you'll see. You're just worried because losing Dally and Johnny and Kipper broke your heart. You know Steve almost as good as Soda does. Soda even said he's prolly off somewhere lying low. You gotta believe that. Steve's gonna be okay, babe, I promise."

"You don't understand," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I can feel it in my heart, Brooke, something's wrong."

"You really love him, don't ya? You love that boy," she said softly, a smile playing at her lips. "You're so scared because your heart can't stand to lose the boy you love."

Kit stared at her for a moment, tears still rolling down her cheeks, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Brooklyn wasn't wrong. She loved Steve with every fiber of her body and it scared her to think that she might not ever be able to tell him that. It terrified her to think about losing the boy she fought so hard to understand. Steve stood by her in her time of need and she felt broken not knowing if he was okay. She couldn't bear the thought of not being there beside him in his time of need.

"What if I never see him again?" she whispered so softly that no one heard her words. "What if he dies too?"

* * *

"I love you," Steve whispered, forcing himself to try and pull himself up. He had no strength left. Every fiber of his body screamed in protest. The bruises and broken ribs kept him floored. He knew if only he could get back to his car, he'd be okay. His fingers clawed at the dirt. He wasn't sure how long he had been lying there, but it felt like an eternity. He felt like every passing minute was going to be his last.

"I love you, Jo-Anna Beth. I love you."


	5. Chapter 5

"Say you're there when I feel helpless  
If that's true, why don't you help me?"

– "Trauma" by TF

* * *

After a painfully long night, it was early the next morning when the gang assembled in the living room, trying to come up with a plan to find their lost friend. Soda was pacing back and forth, his uncontrollable energy radiating with every bouncing step. Two-Bit was idly flicking his new switchblade open and closed, his latest prize that he lifted after realizing he would never get the one back that Dally had died with. Ponyboy was trying to find places Steve could be, quietly mapping out their side of Tulsa, marking places they had already checked with a red pen. Brooklyn was trying to convince Kit to eat with no luck. Darry was sitting in the arm chair, watching his friends and brothers with idle eyes. His hands kept balling and unballing, letting everyone know that he was impatiently waiting for a plan. And Kit? Kit was sitting on the couch, her good leg pulled to her chest, her bad leg resting on the coffee table, her eyes vacant and muted. She looked even paler, if that were possible. Her hair was a matted mess, her thin frame wrapped tightly in the afghan that she refused to shrug off.

Kiack and Greaser were lying on the floor. Both dogs seemed to sense the urgency of the situation.

"You need to eat," Brooklyn tried for the millionth time. "Steve would be pissed if he knew you haven't eaten since the day before yesterday," she added.

"Not. Hungry," she said softly. Her voice was hoarse, her throat raw from getting sick the night before. "I just want to find Steve."

"I called all the hospitals and the station, Steve hasn't been picked up and isn't there," Brooklyn said gently. "That's a good thing. That means he's not in trouble," she said as she placed the bowl of oatmeal down on the table. She placed a reassuring hand on Kit's knee. "Steve's gonna come home, you'll see."

"Maybe he's at the stable?" Soda piped up. "Maybe he wanted to try his hand in a rodeo."

"Steve can't ride," Kit pointed out. "Besides, that was Dally's thing."

"Maybe he's waitin' for a drag race?" Soda tried again.

"I called the track, they ain't seen him," Brooklyn shook her head.

"Maybe he's just out drivin' around?" Ponyboy suggested. "I mean; it's not like he's been gone that long."

"He was supposed to work today," Darry said glumly. "I called down to the DX and they haven't seen him either."

"Steve never misses work," Kit said, tears welling in her eyes again. "Guys, this is bad."

"Let's try not to assume the worse," Brooklyn said softly, her hand coming up to wipe the tears from her friend's face. "Can you think of anywhere else he could be?"

Kit shook her head slowly before carefully standing, her hand reaching for the cane, though it wasn't there. Instead, Greaser stood and braced himself against her side, helping her stay upright. Kit said nothing as she walked out the front door and lowered herself down on the steps, pulling a cigarette out of her pocket. It was cold out, very cold. But between the warmth Greaser provided and the warmth of the afghan, she didn't register the chill. Instead, she watched every car that drove by, hoping that she could spot Steve's car. Instead of seeing the car she was hoping for, she spotted the all too familiar rundown truck roll to a stop in front of the house.

"Fuck," she murmured, her hand gripping at Greaser's collar, her cigarette clenched between her teeth. "What does he want?"

She wanted to run inside and avoid the confrontation but she knew that would do her no good. Her father was an asshole, but he was persistent. Obviously he knew where she was staying, so she felt that avoiding him was worthless.

"Well well well, looks like you've finally crawled on home," her father growled as he stepped out of the truck. "Thought maybe you died with that boy of yours. A shame. Coulda saved alotta trouble if you did."

"What'cha want?" she grunted. She was in no mood for his shit. She hadn't slept and she wasn't feeling too hot. She was too worried about Steve to deal with her ol' man's bullshit.

"Came by to let cha know that you shouldn't've come back," he said, a snarly smile forming on his lips. "Shame really, I liked that kid. Too bad he ain't never gonna see the light o' day again."

"Who?" Kit forced herself to stand, too quickly. She saw a flash of white but quickly shook it away. "Who are you talkin' about?" her voice was filled with worry and venom, a toxic combination.

"That little blonde friend o' yours," he said with a sick grin. "Shame, really."

With that, he got back into the truck and pealed out of there. Kit felt like she was going to be sick all over again. Was her father talking about Steve or Dally? Both were blondes. Both were her friends. She had no idea if he was rehashing history to hurt her, or if he knew where Steve was.

"What was that about?" Soda asked as he bounded down the steps to stand next to the shaking girl. "Was that your ol' man?"

"I think…" Kit sucked in a deep breath. "I think Steve's in trouble. I think my ol' man did something."

Her words caused Soda to tense up, his normally happy eyes now filled with nothing but anger. Everyone knew what her father was capable of. They knew he was a bigger threat than any greaser or soc could ever be. Soda turned on his heel and rushed back into the house, leaving Kit standing in the front yard, her hand still tightly gripping Greaser's collar.

"I'm going to find you, I promise," she whispered. Her eyes filled with tears again as she looked to the sky, praying silently for a sign. Something. Anyway.

* * *

Steve knew it had to be a dream, or maybe he had died and went to hell, either way, he knew what he was seeing wasn't real.

Dallas Winston was racing towards him, his eyes wild, an unloaded heater in his hand. Behind him, there were too many blurry faces for Steve to make out. He couldn't stop himself from screaming in fear.

Just as Dally turned, the shots rang out. So loud, Steve was almost certain they were real. He felt his legs give way as he watched Dally turn away, just enough for the bullets to miss him and hit Steve instead.

White, blinding pain coursed through his chest. He reached up instinctively, shocked to find his hand covered in blood when he pulled it away. _This isn't right, _he thought as he looked, his heart racing in his chest. _Dally was shot, not me. _

A white flash of light broke the scene, leading to a new one, one Steve wished was true.

He was dressed in a black tuxedo, one he borrowed from Soda. He was nervously bouncing from one foot to the other, Sodapop at his side. The music blared, signaling what should have been the best moment of his life.

Dressed in white, she walked down the aisle, her arm looped into Darry's, her freshly dyed red hair shimmering in the sunlight. She was healthy, her eyes dancing with joy, her smile brighter than a million suns. He looked on with wonderment as she took careful steps towards him, her eyes never leaving his.

Then the world seemed to shatter around them.

She was no longer standing before him. Now it was his father. A belt in one hand, a beer in the other. His face was blurred as he lashed out at his only child. Steve backed away, panic rising in his chest. The belt kissed his skin with a sickening whack. He tried to shield himself but it was no use. The anger boiled over and within the blink of an eye, Steve was lying on the ground, bloodied and alone. He gasped and tried to get up but it was useless.

Another flash of light. This time, he was overly aware of how cold he was. He groaned and curled into a tight ball, tears streaking down his face. He knew he was going to die, if he wasn't already dead.

* * *

"Wait, go over all that again?" Darry demanded. He was trying to wrap his head around what Kit's father had said. "From the beginning."

Kit repeated the conversation for the second time, each word hitching in her throat as she told Darry how scared she was. She couldn't bear the thought of something happening to Steve because of her.

"Sounds like he was talkin' about Dally," Two-Bit shrugged. "Steve ain't that blonde."

"I hope so," Soda said, chewing at his fingernail. "Because if good ol' Mr. Stevenson did somethin' to Steve…"

"I will kill him myself," Kit finished. "I'm not losin' no one else. C'mon, let's figure out who's goin' with who to look for 'im."

"Reckon you should stay here, Kit, your leg still isn't that good," Darry pointed out. "Besides, if Steve shows up here, someone needs to be here."

"I'm goin' with, Darry, end of story," Kit grumbled.

"No, you aren't," Darry said, and unfortunately his tone let her know that was the end of it. She grumbled and stormed into the kitchen, or rather, limped into the kitchen, shooting a sour look over her shoulder. She knew deep down Darry was right, but that didn't stop her from wanting to come with them. She sulked while they came up with a plan. She sat down in the kitchen and let her mind wander until their voices soon faded from her mind.

"Just come home," she whispered as she ran her hand over the deep, painful scar on her leg. "I need you,"


	6. Chapter 6

"She lives her life like a flame; a dance of purposeful chaos.… Her enchanting light can guide you and quell your fears… She's hot; warming those who respect her and burning those who don't… She is a flame with an unforgettable glow… A weak man will try to dim her luminance… but her soul mate will take pleasure in fanning the blaze." - Steve Mariboli

* * *

Kit wasn't thrilled with the plan, but she knew without a doubt that Darry was right. She couldn't keep up with them even if she tried. Her bad leg was aching like crazy and someone had to stay home in case Steve came back. So Brooklyn took Soda with her to check Steve's normal hangouts. Darry and Ponyboy were taking the back alleys and backroads, in case Steve broke down somewhere and Two-Bit was driving around asking everyone and anyone if they'd seen head or tail of Steve in the last twenty-four hours.

It seemed like hours upon hours of waiting. Kit paced from one end of the house to another, her cane in one hand, her other resting carefully on Greaser's back. She was getting stronger. She could feel it with every step she took, even if each step felt like torture. She was determined to stay busy, sitting around doing nothing was making her crazy.

She slowly began picking up discarded dishes, then pieces of laundry, putting them in their place. Greaser never left her side, aiding in every step she took.

"What if they don't find him?" she asked the pup, who looked up at her with deep chocolate eyes. "What if…what if he's hurt?"

Greaser let out a soft whine before licking Kit's hand. She sighed and rubbed his head before returning to the chores she started. Two hours later, the entire house was clean and organized. Kit even made everyone's beds.

Finally exhausted, she caught the sight of the time. It was almost 5. She groaned and made her way into the kitchen, carefully pulling groceries out to make dinner, even though she wasn't the least bit hungry. She knew the gang would be once they came home. She had a sinking feeling that something really bad was going to happen. Her leg was bothering her even more, after all the steps she had taken that day, but she pushed the pain aside so she could focus on what to cook.

As she was about to turn the oven on to throw a couple chickens in to bake, the phone started ringing. Her heart leapt into her throat as she half limped, half ran for the phone. She picked it up on the tenth ring.

"Hello?" she asked, her tone giving away her concern mangled with unnerving excitement.

"Jo-Anna Stevenson?" a calm male's voice asked.

"Yes sir," Kit said, bracing herself against the counter, the cord to the phone looping around her finger. "This is she."

"I'm afraid there has been an accident. Your boyfriend…Steven Randle…he is currently in surgery at Tulsa General Hospital. He has you listed as his emergency contact," he explained.

"I'm on my way," she said without missing a beat. She wasn't about to correct him. She hung up the phone without waiting to hear what he said next. Instead, she hurried to dial the Mathew's residence. Two-Bit's mother answered the phone after the first ring.

"Hello?" she asked merrily, though she sounded exhausted.

"Mrs. Mathews! It's Kit," Kit tried to keep her tone calm. "Is Two-Bit there?"

"Sorry hun, he's out with the boys as far as I know, can I leave 'im a message for you, love?" she asked kindly.

"Yes ma'am. Just tell him we found Steve and I'm headed over to the hospital to pick 'im up, Tulsa General," she said quickly. Again, she hung up, not waiting for a reply. Instead, she hurried to scribble a note for the guys and stuck it on the front door after she retrieved her cane, a pocketful of change, and her coat.

She barely registered the pain in her leg as she hurried to the bus stop, making it just as the bus pulled up. She pulled herself up the three steps and limped her way into a seat after handing the driver a quarter. It was a thirty-minute bus ride to the hospital, but Kit was determined to get there as soon as possible. Her good leg bounced up and down the entire ride.

* * *

Meanwhile, across town, the groups were having little to no luck. Brooklyn and Soda had no luck at Steve's normal hangouts. They tried the races, the track, the DX, anywhere and everywhere they could think of.

"Did Kitten call the diner? Buck's?" Soda asked as Brooklyn slowly rolled down the mostly quiet streets. She kept looking around as if she was going to somehow manifest the powder blue Chevrolet if she looked for it hard enough. "Are you listening to me, Brooke?" Soda asked impatiently.

"What?" She asked, turning her attention to the passenger she forgot she was driving with. They were driving in a loner car from the DX that Soda said no one was going to miss.

"Did Kit call the Dingo? Buck's? You know, the places she used to work before this whole shit-show started?" he asked impatiently, panic evident in her tone.

"Yeah, yeah," Brooklyn nodded. "She called everyone. Tim's got boys out lookin' too I reckon," she continued. "Kit's real worried Soda, she's got people lookin' everywhere, just like us."

"This ain't like Steve," Soda mused.

Two-Bit wasn't having any luck either. The most information he was able to dig up was that after Steve left the DX the night before, a few kids saw him driving towards the country. All Two-Bit could do was hope and pray that Steve didn't make a break for it. He couldn't imagine Steve leaving Soda, much less Kit after everything they've been through.

"What if he loves her so much he's scared she's gonna reject him?" he couldn't help but think aloud as he drove towards one of the tracks where he knew Steve had connections. "Would he go out to the stables? He's not a horse person…" He couldn't help but think about how Kit drove out to Dally's old stomping ground after Dallas died in her arms. She drove out to the stables and dug up pieces of the past to try and put his soul to rest. He couldn't help but wonder if maybe Steve was after the same kind of closure.

Darry and Ponyboy had a little more luck. They managed to drive far enough out of town limits to find Steve's car, abandoned by the side of the road, yellow police tape surrounding the scene, half a dozen fuzz seeming to be taking in the scene before them.

"Darry," Pony gasped. His face went a sickly shade of white, his greyish green eyes as wide as saucers. "What if…"

"Don't even think that," Darry said gruffly, though by the white-knuckle grip he held on the steering wheel, it was clear Darry's mind had gone there. But the souped up Chevrolet seemed to be perfectly untouched, except for the driver's side door being wide open.

Darry pulled over and slowly made his way up to the first police officer he could reach.

* * *

After what felt like a lifetime, Kit finally stepped off the bus and half ran, half limped the block and a half that separated the stop from the hospital. She was sweating fiercely, despite the chill in the air, as she quickly wove her way through the emergency room, making her way to the reception desk far faster than she imagined possible.

"For Steven Randle?" she panted, her eyes wide with fear and pain. "Where can I find Steven Randle?"

"Oh honey, you look like you've seen a ghost!" the homely woman said softly. She flipped at the clipboard in front of her and shook her head. "He's on the fourth floor – the trauma ward. He is still in surgery but you can definitely wait for him up there in the waiting room."

Kit felt her heart sink. "S-surgery?" she managed to squeak. She felt like she was going to be sick.

"Yes doll, that's all I know. Go on down this hall and take the elevator to the 4th floor, then hang a right, you'll see the sign," she nodded. "There should be a nurse up there who can tell you more."

"T-thanks," she whispered. She followed the directions, her bad leg suddenly screaming in agony, almost as much as her heart was.

* * *

Not even an hour later, Darry and the rest of the gang were having a similar conversation with the same, soft spoken receptionist. Darry had picked everyone up after talking to the fuzz, but Two-Bit was actually the first one to find out when he went back to his house to tell his mom he wasn't coming home that night, when his mom had rattled off Kit's panicked message.

"My goodness, Mr. Randle sure does have a big family," the nurse standing next to the receptionist said with a slight smile.

"That he does," the younger, friendlier woman agreed. They both looked in the direction the group had taken off in.

* * *

Kit was sitting alone in the dank waiting room when she heard the rush of footsteps approach her. She looked up and saw the gang coming. Soda reached her first, without a word, throwing his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

"He's gonna be okay," Kit said, though her tone was tight, tears silently rolling down her cheeks. "He has to, Soda…I can't lose no one else."

"He'll be okay, ya dig? This is Steve we're talkin' about," Soda with matter-of-factly, his voice muffled in her unruly hair. "He's gonna pull through."

"Family of Steven Randle?" a husky voice echoed. Everyone stood at attention, their eyes wide, faces a varying degree of concern and panic. "I reckon y'all sit down for this," the doctor said grimly. Kit couldn't help but gasp, memories of her mother's death once more flashing through her mind as she sank heavily into the seat behind her. _No, no, no, _she begged silently.


	7. Chapter 7

"I'm here. I love you. I don't care if you need to stay up crying all night long, I will stay with you. If you need the medication again, go ahead and take it—I will love you through that, as well. If you don't need the medication, I will love you, too. There's nothing you can ever do to lose my love. I will protect you until you die, and after your death I will still protect you. I am stronger than Depression and I am braver than Loneliness and nothing will ever exhaust me." ― **Elizabeth Gilbert, ****Eat, Pray, Love**

* * *

Kit found herself digging her nails into the angry scar that still caused her pain as she listened to the doctor drone on. Dr. Charles Montgomery. The name vaguely rang a bell, but Kit couldn't remember where she knew it from. She couldn't help but feel all sorts of panic bubbling in her chest as he took a seat across from the group, cleared his throat, and began going through Steve's chart.

Phrases like "punctured lung," "broken ribs," "surgery to remove…" and "lucky to be alive," all stood out to her, but made little sense in the state she was in.

"Stop picking," Soda said gently, taking her hand from her leg and holding it tightly in his own. "He's okay."

"Mr. Randle sustained a multitude of injuries that seem to have been caused by an assault of some sort. When he came in, his blood pressure was exceptionally low, most likely due to the amount of blood he lost," the doctor explained. Darry seemed to be the only one taking in the doctor's words. "Upon further investigation, we found that he was suffering from an acute concussion, several broken ribs, a punctured lung, a splenic rupture that resulted in us having to remove his spleen, as well as a sprained wrist and several lacerations that required stitches. Overall, Steven is lucky to be alive. We had to give him several pints of blood to get the bleeding under control and stabilize him, but the next 24 hours will be crucial to determine if he is going to make a full recovery or not."

"He…" Kit looked ready to hurl. "He's alive, right?" Her voice sounded so wounded, even Darry couldn't help but look at her with concern.

"Yes," the doctor nodded. "Right now he is on a ventilator to breathe for him, due to the damage to his lung. He's going to have a long road ahead of him, should he wake up."

"What?" Soda squeaked. His eyes suddenly filled with tears. "_Should_ he wake up?"

"At this time, we cannot guarantee that there wasn't any extensive damage to his brain. Only time will tell if he wakes up and makes a recovery at all," the doctor stated truthfully.

"He's only 18," Kit whispered, her voice sounding far away and broken. Steve had just turned 18 not too long ago. "He's too young…god, he's..." she barely managed to launch forward to the garbage can in time to empty what little was left in her stomach. Darry got to his feet immediately and took charge, rubbing small circles in her back while nodding to the doctor.

"Thank you," he said as kindly as he could. "When can we…when can we see him?"

"I'm afraid since he is currently in the intensive care unit, you won't be able to see him until morning. Visiting hours start at 8." The doctor said gently.

"No," Kit gasped, finally able to lean back, her butt hitting the ground with a soft thud. "I…I need to see him," she begged. "_Please_."

"Sir, with all due respect, we're family…_please_," Darry said gently, though his tone was firm.

"I'll see what I can do about moving Mr. Randle into his own room. If we can transport him, we will allow you to see him, sound fair?" the doctor asked. By the way he stared at the gang, it was clear to Darry that this doctor wasn't from some high class family. He could tell that the doctor truly felt for the gang.

"Thank you," Brooklyn spoke up for the first time. "Please, make it happen," her New York accent tight and high. "My sister here, she needs to see him. He's the love of her life," she added with a sympathetic glance at Kit, who was currently sitting with her good knee pulled tightly to her chest, silent tears spilling out of her eyes. "Please, Dr. Montgomery."

"I…" he looked at the group, his own eyes filling with sorrow. "I will see what I can do."

Two-Bit looked on with vacant eyes. He wasn't able to wrap his head around what was happening. All he knew was he was grateful the doctor seemed to be on their side. That was an improvement from the last time they were there. This doctor seemed to like them and understand them, both of which none of them had ever encountered before. Normally greasers didn't get treated with respect when they entered a hospital.

"You were right," Ponyboy mused, addressing Kit. "You knew something was wrong…how?"

"I…" Kit swayed. Darry quickly grabbed her arms and carefully led her back to her seat. "I just knew…I felt it in my heart and knew…"

Kit sank into the chair, her entire frame trembling. She couldn't put into words the emotions she was feeling, other than exhaustion. She leaned onto Soda's shoulder, her eyes closing heavily as she breathed in his familiar scent.

"I've got her," he said softly to whoever asked him a question. "I've got her."

* * *

It seemed as if hours had passed before the doctor returned and gave Darry a reassuring nod.

"We were able to move Steven into a private room. That being said, I must warn you, what you will see may shock you. You are more than welcomed to stay with him, we arranged special permission due to the _dire_ circumstances. If anyone gives any of you any trouble, tell them that I gave you clearance," he said sincerely. "I will be checking in with you every few hours, and there are several nurses assigned to his case."

"Thank you, sir," Darry said with a sincere smile, before shaking the doctor's hand. Soda couldn't help but notice the way the doctor said "dire". Was Steve dying after all? Did he give clearance so they could say goodbye?

"Steven is lucky to have such a strong support system. He's going to need it," the doctor said with a grim tone. "Room 414," he added, nodding for them to head down the hall.

"Wake up, Kit, we get to see him," Soda said gently. He nudged Kit, who nearly jumped out of her skin at the warmth of his touch. "Whoa, hey," Soda said soothingly. Ponyboy and Soda locked eyes for a moment, silently reading one another's thoughts.

"Kit, we get to see him," Ponyboy said gently, stretching out his hand for her to take. Without hesitation she let him help her to her feet, before he gently pressed her cane into her hand. "C'mon," he said gently.

Kit refused to admit that every step was agony. The only thing she had on her mind was seeing Steve. She needed to see him. She needed to tell him exactly what she was feeling. She couldn't live with him not knowing how much she loved him.

"Room 414," Darry announced as they approached the room. No one made any move to enter. The door was slightly ajar and even from the hallway, they could hear the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the loud whooshing of the ventilator. Darry exchanged looks with the rest of the gang before sighing, realizing they were waiting for him to take the lead.

"I…" Kit looked sick again. Soda placed a hand in the small of her back to keep her steady. Darry turned to face her. "I should be the first one…the first…to…" she couldn't get the words out, instead, stepping weakly forward, pushing the door open quietly. She gasped the moment her eyes laid on the boy she loved so much.

She didn't hesitate. Then she grabbed the chair closest to the bed and pulled it right up to Steve's side, her hands clasping his without a second to waste. She held his hand, tears streaming down her face as she whispered inaudible nothings into his ear, her shoulders trembling as she held onto his for dear life, afraid that if she removed her hands for even a moment, he would disappear into thin air.

"I can't lose you," she whispered, her lips so close to his ear, no one else could make out her soft whispers. "I love you, Steve Randle, more than words can ever express. I love you with every single fiber of my being and I am so, so sorry it took me this long to say that. I love you. I need you. I can't fathom living without you. You are my rock, my constant, my everything. Come back to me, baby, come back to me and let me tell you that while you're awake. You gotta wake up for me, I need you."

Darry was talking to the nurse softly when Soda gently nudged him so he could look at Kit, who was trembling with every word she seemed to utter, though her words were so soft, he wasn't sure if she was even talking at all.

"Jo?" Darry asked gently, moving towards her like she was a wounded animal. "Jo?"

Kit looked up, not entirely registering that Darry was calling to her. The room seemed to be spreading around her, lengthening and narrowing. She blinked but the vision didn't leave her sight.

"I'm fine," she managed to hiss, before returning her eyes to Steve. She felt like her heart was being ripped into a million tiny pieces with every beep of the monitors that seemed to echo off the white walls. "We're fine," she whispered again, this time, letting her hand rest gently on top of Steve's, her eyes glassy with tears. _You're okay…you have to be._

"I've got her," Soda said gently to his older brother, despite his attempt to have Darry save her a moment before. Two-Bit traded spots with him. Now he was listening to Darry talk to the nurse, while Soda was now kneeling next to Kit, his hand gently touching her arm. Together the pair seemed to have a conversation that no one else could hear.

"Do you remember the time Steve hurt his knee really badly?" she asked suddenly. "He was like…maybe 5 or something at the time."

"I remember," Soda nodded. "Steve was 6 and I was 5," he added.

"Right. Well remember how he actually cried? He said it hurt so bad, he couldn't walk on it," she continued, her eyes glazed over as she stared at Steve with nothing but love and admiration.

"You picked him up and carried him!" Soda nodded, smiling at the memory. Kit was older than him and Steve, only a few months short of a year younger than Darry. She was probably around 9 when that night happened.

"He was so scared," she said in a soft tone. "I remember carrying him all the way to your house, holding him tight so he knew he was okay," she went on, a stray tear falling from her eyes. "Your mom let me help her fix him up, remember? She taught me how to gingerly close the cuts so he'd never feel our fingers working."

"I remember. Mom was real proud of how calm you stayed. Then you and Steve talked until he fell asleep," he nodded.

"I sang to him," she said softly, her fingers suddenly rubbing circles in Steve's unruly hair. "I sang to him until he felt safe enough to sleep."

"You always loved him," Soda observed gently. "You always made sure he was okay, even after everything happened. You always checked in."

"Soda," Kit said softly, turning her face to him for the first time. Soda could see the exhaustion, the fear, the sadness lurking behind the forced smile she plastered on her face. "Soda…I don't just love him," she said softly, her words barely audible. "I'm in love with him. Steve is my better half…I…" she glanced at Steve's still form. "I can't lose him…Damn it, Soda, I can't lose anyone else…I can't…." she struggled to keep her composure. "I can't lose anyone else I love…"

"He's right here, Kitten," Darry said gently, placing a hand on her thin shoulder. He had caught the tail end of their conversation. "Steve's right here. He's going to be okay. You'll see."

"No, Darry, you don't understand," Kit said softly, her voice hitching in her throat. "I _can not _lose anyone else. I just can't."

Soda suddenly realized the meaning behind Kit's words. She couldn't handle another loss. Another loss would push her over the edge. He never thought he'd see his friend so close to her breaking point, not after everything she had survived over the years. Yet right there, at his best friend's bedside, she admitted to something that maybe only he truly understood.

If Steve died, Kit would die too. She couldn't lose anyone else.


	8. Chapter 8

" Healing yourself is connected with healing others." – **Yoko Ono**

* * *

The hours turned to days. The days turned to weeks. The weeks soon turned into a month…then another. By month two, the gang was losing hope.

"There's no improvement…" the doctor kept explaining every day when he did his rounds. "If he doesn't show any signs of waking up soon-,"

Kit cut him off.

"He's gonna wake up, he has to," she insisted. "He just needs time."

Kit knew what it was like to need time. In the weeks that had passed since the night of Steve's accident, her leg had deteriorated in front of their eyes. All of her progress to get better went down the drain. She could barely put any weight on her bad leg, the muscles once again weak from sitting in that same chair at Steve's bedside for days on end. She was exhausted beyond words. Every night she was plagued with nightmares that made her physically sick, causing what little she did manage to consume to come back up with every violent heave. She barely left Steve's side, only leaving for a few handfuls of hours a week.

While Soda, Brooklyn, and Darry had to return to work shortly after the doctor warned them that Steve may never wake up, Two-Bit actually went and got a real job, now working opposite shifts of the rest, so someone was always with Kit, and Ponyboy had to return to school, despite how often he tried to argue with Darry about it, Kit never left. She stayed with Steve as much as she could. She was terrified if Steve was alone, he'd never wake up.

It was early one morning when Dr. Montgomery pulled Darry into the hall, his face grim.

"As you know, Steve has made very little improvement. We've been able to keep him stable, but now it's time to consider if taking him off life support would be a better option. I understand that Miss Stevenson is his only listed emergency contact, but I am concerned that she is in no shape to be making that decision," his tone was soft, but Darry could see the concern on his face. "She's fiercely loyal to that young man, it's an incredible thing to witness, however, I speak for all of us when I say we are growing more and more concerned about her ability to cope."

"She won't let that happen," Darry said gently. "I'll take care of her. As for Steve, we aren't giving up," he added with a hint of determination. "We don't give up on our own."

"Sir…I understand your determination, but the longer he is unconscious the worse his prognosis is. As for your other friend, I highly recommend getting her some help. She needs it."

Darry pondered his words as he returned to the room they had become all too familiar with. He looked at Kit and was pleased to see her eating the sandwich he had brought for her.

"Hungry today?" he asked eagerly.

"I guess," she nodded. "He squeezed my hand Darry. He's still in there. I know he is."

"He squeezed your hand?" Darry asked excitedly. "That's progress!"

"He's gonna wake up, Darry, I can feel it. Right Stevie? You're in there and you're gonna open those beautiful eyes of yours," she cooed. Darry couldn't help but smile. She had dedicated herself to Steve since day one. "Open those beautiful blue eyes," she coaxed. She had spent hours singing to him every day, tracing calm circles in his hair, keeping her tone steady and calm despite the tears that always welled up in her eyes. "I know you're coming back to us, I know you are."

As if by some magical miracle, Steve's face scrunched up, his nose crinkling.

"Get the doctor," Kit demanded, her sandwich forgotten. "Stevie? Are you waking up, baby? Are you coming back to us?"

"K-Kitten?" Steve's hoarse voice squeaked against the tube shoved down his throat. Suddenly his eyes popped open and he tried to reach for the tube that had helped him breathe for the last two months. Darry rushed out to find the doctor, while Kit grabbed Steve's hands, holding them softly, speaking gently into his ear to calm him down.

"I'm here. You're okay. You came back to us. I'm right here, I ain't never leaving you, you hear? Deep breaths, stay calm, you're okay now," she shushed. "Don't struggle, that tube's been helping you get enough air. Superman's gettin' the doctor now. Shhh."

The doctor came quickly, Darry and several nurses hurrying behind him.

"Well I'll be," the doctor said with a huge grin. "Steven Randle, you sure are one miracle, kid!"

"W-water," Steve groaned.

"Sure thing, first, we gotta get that tube out of your throat. Then we'll see about getting you some water." He nodded to the nurses and they got to work removing the tube from his throat while one of the other nurses set up what looked like an oxygen mask. Kit's eyes widened when she saw it.

"Just in case," she explained.

Five minutes passed in a blur while the doctor took Steve's vitals, his eyes wide with amazement as he listened to Steve's chest and checked his blood pressure. After he was confident that Steve wasn't going to stop breathing again, he offered him a cup of water, telling him to take small sips.

"I can't believe this," the doctor whispered in amazement. "Kid, you're a damn miracle!"

"I told you, we don't give up on our own," Darry said with a tight smile. Kit nudged her way back to Steve's bedside, her fingers lacing into his.

"We loved with a love that was more than love," Kit whispered.

"Poe?" the nurse standing next to her asked with a sly smile. Kit nodded slowly. "Steven is very lucky to have all of you," she said gently, laying a hand on Kit's shoulder. "I hope one day I find the kind of love the two of you have. Despite everything you were told, your faith stayed strong. Your love was unwavering. It has been an honor to watch."

"You're gonna make her cry, Litia," Dr. Montgomery chided. "Don't hesitate to get one of us, but I reckon you all have some calls to make and I'm sure you have a lot of catching up to do. Welcome back to the world of the living Steven."

"I'm going to call the gang, okay?" Darry offered, sensing Kit was not going to move from her spot next to Steve.

"Can you grab me a pack of cigarettes on your way back?" Kit asked, throwing Darry a hopeful look. "I think once everyone gets here, I'm gonna get some sky."

"Sure thing. Good to see you awake, Stevie. You had us worried somethin' awful," Darry nodded.

Kit scooted the chair closer to Steve, a smile playing on her lips while she helped adjust the pillows so he was sitting up.

"So, what happened?" he asked, his voice hoarse and raw. "I mean…I freaking _hurt_," his voice squeaked a little.

Kit glanced at the IV in Steve's hand before slowly rising to grab his chart from the foot of the bed. She skimmed over the latest details.

"They've got you on a few pretty strong painkillers. I'm sure they'll kick in soon," she assured him. "But you were attacked…We have a strong reason to believe it was my ol' man…" tears made her choke on her words. "You were…glory, Steve, you looked dead when we got to see you…you needed surgery and blood transfusions and everything. You've been asleep for just over two months."

"Wha-? How? What the fuck," he mused, his eyes widening at Kit's explanation.

"You're gonna be okay, you hear? Most of the cuts are healed up, they took your stitches out a week ago. Your ribs are gonna be achin' for a while but everything else is healing. We were so scared that your brain took the worst of it," she said calmly, returning her hand to his, her fingers rubbing gently circles across the top of his hand.

"Why? My brain I mean," he asked, clearly trying to process everything.

"You've been in a coma, Steve. They had you hooked to a machine to breathe for you and keep your heart beating steadily. They were telling us to pull the plug, but hell woulda had to freeze over for that to happen. We weren't giving up, shoot, I wasn't giving up," she said, her voice breaking at the end.

"I'm so tired," Steve said suddenly. His forehead creased as he tried to suck in a deep breath. Kit was instantly there, moving the pillows around so Steve could lay down comfortable.

"Rest, you need it," she said softly, pressing his hair out of his face before planting a kiss on his forehead. "I love you," she whispered.

Steve's eyes blinked open at the gently sound of her voice.

"I love you," he chorused, his eyes watering, a smile flashing on his face. "I love you."

"Rest," Kit said, tears of joy rolling down her cheeks as she carefully nudged as closely to Steve as the hospital bed would allow. "I'll be here when you wake up. I'll always be here."

Little did she know, that that promise would hold more true than she ever could have imagined.

* * *

Across town, sitting in the Curtis's kitchen, Two-Bit Mathews was reading over the letter in his hands for the millionth time, his normally dancing eyes grim and red rimmed from the tears that wouldn't stop spilling.

When the phone rang, he could barely compose himself enough to answer it.

"Darry?" Two-Bit had barely heard what Darry said.

"Steve's awake," Darry said, his tone calm, but you could sense he was overjoyed.

"I got my letter today," Two-Bit deadpanned.

"What?"

Two-Bit sank to his knees as he read the letter to Darry.

Any just like that, when they finally caught a break and one of their best friends were returned to them, another was about to be ripped away.

Guess Ponyboy's observation was always right; Greasers just never seem to catch a break.


	9. Chapter 9

"Goodbyes are not forever, are not the end; it simply means I'll miss you until we meet again."

* * *

It was two days after Steve's miraculous awakening that Two-Bit decided to get everyone together in Steve's room and tell them the bad news. The doctors said as long as Steve started walking and eating solid food within the next week, he would be cleared to leave with strict instructions to stay in bed and slowly regain his strength.

Without knowing that the night was about to take a turn in a different direction, Brooklyn had managed to order two pizzas and made a chocolate cake, specially to celebrate.

"I don't even remember the last time we had pizza," Ponyboy laughed as he licked the dripping cheese off his fingers. "This is so good!"

"I think it was for Darry's birthday," Kit pipped up, laughing as Soda scrunched his face after burning his tongue. Kit carefully cut the slice in front of her into pieces before carefully plopping a bite sized piece into Steve's mouth.

"Mmm," he moaned with satisfaction. "Pizza tastes so much better after almost dying," he joked, his voice sounding stronger and stronger with each passing day.

"Too soon," Kit chided, playfully swatting at his hand. She was seated next to him, her bad leg propped on the chair that had since become her home. She carefully balanced the plate of pizza on her lap, while she reached for her cup of coffee on the table, nearly falling off the bed in the process.

"Lemme help," Two-Bit said softly, handing her the cup of water. Two-Bit's normally cheerful and carefree spirit seemed heavy. His eyes didn't dance like they normally did.

"What's wrong, Two? You're never this quiet," Brooklyn asked, sliding her chair next to his. "We should be celebrating, Steve's awake and not a potato!"

"Vegetable," Ponyboy corrected her with a slight smile.

"Same thing," Brooklyn shrugged.

Darry cleared his throat, getting everyone's attention.

"While I am grateful beyond words to have Steve awake and very much alive, I think there's something Two-Bit wants to tell you all," he said softly, though his tone sounded strained. All eyes shifted to Two-Bit, who looked down at the crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

"What's wrong, Two-Bit?" Ponyboy asked. The pair had gotten a lot closer since Dally and Johnny died. "No jokes tonight?"

"I…" Two-Bit looked down at the paper in his hand. He handed it to Kit, who happened to be closest to him.

She looked at the paper. Then read it. Then read it again, her face turning a slight shade of green.

"No," she whispered, turning the paper over and over in her hand, as if she could make the print disappear. "Two-Bit, why didn't you tell us?" Her eyes locked on the date in front of her.

"I didn't want to rain on Steve's 'I'm actually alive guys' parade," Two-Bit shrugged, though his eyes were sad and downcast. "I'm gonna run, I have to, I ain't cut out for war."

"Wait, what?" Steve sat straighter, causing his ribs to tug, resulting in him letting out a pained gasp.

"Slow down," Kit said softly, moving so she could get her arm behind him, before propping the pillows up more.

"War? What the fuck man, tell me it ain't so," Steve looked frantically at one of his best buddies. Soda looked grim from where he sat on Steve's other side. Ponyboy looked ready to bawl as the realization set in. Darry stood against the wall, seemingly to have already had time to process the news.

"You…what?" Brooklyn was the first to fully soak in what was happening. "How? Ain't there some law about bein' the man of the house an' all?" Her tone was broken.

"No," Kit shook her head sadly. "Two days? I thought they gave a week or something." Her heart felt like it was being ripped from her chest.

"I found out two days ago…the letter came two before that," Two-Bit said sadly. He wasn't home all the time so half the time his mail went unopened for days on end. "I'm runnin' though. I ain't gonna die."

"How you reckon you're gonna make that work, man, runnin' ain't that easy," Darry said softly.

"We'll figure it out," Soda said, determination in his eyes. "Steve's got that cousin in Kansas and Kit's got folks up north, right Kit?"

"I _had_ family up north. Not entirely sure if my ol' man's brother wants me around none," she sighed miserably. "There _has_ to be a way around this."

"Stop," Two-Bit said, using a tone he never used. "I got my mind made up. I'm gonna head out and say g'dbye to my mom and sister," he added with a heavy sigh. "I love y'all for worrying, but my mind's made up. Gonna see if Tim has a set of wheels I can use then I'm headed north."

"Two-Bit…" Kit forced herself to her feet so she could wrap her arms around him. "You don't gotta do this, we can figure this out."

"Ain't no figurin' it out," he sighed miserably. "You take care of 'em, you hear? Don't let no one else die."

_No one can love you without ending up dead. You ruin the lives of everyone around you._

Kit was suddenly haunted by her father's words for the millionth time.

"You stay safe, you hear me? You call, you write…you stay alive," she hissed into his ear.

The others took turns saying teary goodbyes to one of their best friends. Last of all was Steve, who couldn't get out of bed just yet. Two-Bit leaned over and gave him an awkward hug before nodding, silently promising to stay safe.

"Are you sure about this? We could…" Kit's sentence was cut off by an unexpected voice.

"I'm coming with you."

"What?" all eyes were on Brooklyn who had her coat already on, her icy blue eyes that mirrored her brother's perfectly, shiny with a look Kit hadn't seen before.

"I'm going with him. I'll keep 'im safe. It's what Dally would have done," she said with a shrug. "I love y'all to bits, but I know where I'm needed."

"Brooke," Two-Bit started, ready to argue with her.

"Keith," she said, using his birth name for the first time. "Let's go. We'll use my car. You can say goodbye to your folks while I pack up my stuff and grab what little cash I've got saved up. We'll be fine, and you won't be out there runnin' alone."

"Are you sure?" Kit looked torn. Brooklyn was still so young. She could be living her life, loving life, falling in love, being a kid.

"I've never been one to stay in one place, Kitten," Brooklyn said with a sly smile. "The road's the only home I've ever really known. Dally chased trouble, I chased the freedom. Don't worry, you'll see us again, I swear it."

Kit pulled Brooklyn into a hug, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I love you, kid, keep him safe, savvy?" she whispered. Brooklyn nodded, her own tears falling freely now.

"Thank you," she said softly, before pushing Kit away, giving everyone else a chance to say goodbye before she looked at Steve and Kit. Kit had her head buried in Steve's shoulder now. Steve's eyes were teary and his normally crooked smile was pressed into a thin, grim line.

"Keep her safe, Steve," Brooklyn mouthed before nodding to Two-Bit.

Together, the pair looked around the small hospital room, into the faces of the friends they were about to leave behind.

"Be safe out there, man," Darry said, clamping a hand on Two-Bit's shoulder before giving Brooklyn a sad smile. "And you stay outta trouble."

"We've got this, Dar," Brooklyn said gently. "You take care of them. They need you, more than ever," she added.

Without giving anyone else a chance to make the tears start up again, Two-Bit and Brooklyn left, leaving the remaining members of the gang to sit in silence, the food and cheer seemingly forgotten.

"It's not fair," Ponyboy muttered, sitting down heavily. He buried his head in his hands, while Soda went to his side, trying to comfort the youngest member of the group. "Why do we keep losin' people?"

"Hey, none of that talk," Darry said sternly. "This wasn't goodbye, it was see ya soon," he added.

Darry hoped in the deepest parts of his heart that his statement was true. None of them could handle another loss.

* * *

"Ready?" Brooklyn asked Two-Bit two hours later, after gathering all they could think to bring and saying teary goodbyes to Two-Bit's family. Mrs. Mathews was heartbroken but understood. She didn't want her boy to fight in this godforsaken war any more than he wanted to himself.

"Texas or Canada?" Two-Bit asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I don't speak a lick of Spanish, do you?" Brooklyn asked, cocking her eyebrow, mirroring Two-Bit's expression.

"Canada it is," he chuckled. While his heart was heavy, he was secretly grateful he wasn't running away on his lonesome. Brooklyn might have been young, but she had a lot of street smarts and she would be able to balance his less than mature tendencies. In return, he would keep her safe.

"Ready?" Brooklyn asked again as they turned to get onto the high way. As if in a fete of poetic justice, the sun was setting in front of them.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he sighed. Together, they drove off into the sunset, away from the family they knew and loved. Away from the threat of dying at war. Away from everything they knew and loved and hated all at the same time.

"Canada is supposed to be pretty," Brooklyn mused as they settled in for what was going to be an exceptionally long ride.

"Sure hope so," Two-Bit sighed as he rested his head against the window. He watched as the sun set on the horizon and for the first time, really understood what Ponyboy was always saying when he said sunsets were pretty. "They sure are."

* * *

**A/N As always, feedback is always greatly appreciated! I would love to hear what all of you think with this new turn of events! **


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